


The Arcane Stupidity

by PaperJu



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Abigail is a witch and doesn't know it, Abigail is gay for half of the girls in the village because i said so, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Sebastian is just here to judge everyone and smoke weed (i guess), another fair warning: magic being badly explained and completly illogical, fair warning: i have no idea what i'm doing, is it what you call a crack fic? idk but it's kind of dumb, oh and, the Wizard is suffering in silent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23155432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperJu/pseuds/PaperJu
Summary: Here is the thing: there is a book, a very interesting book with a leather cover and gold inscriptions. And there is also a librarian/archeologist, with a blue hat and blue glasses, and a strict policy regarding some books, especially the very interesting ones with a leather cover and gold inscriptions. And here is the thing: Abigail is curious, and wants to read that very interesting book, because who doesn’t want to read a book with a leather cover and gold inscriptions?Or the fic where Abigail discovers she is (probably) a witch, and also gay, and also the daughter of the weirdo living in the tower.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	1. The Book

* * *

Abigail is a fucking idiot.

“You are a fucking idiot” says Sebastian, with exactly the same voice Abigail’s father uses when she breaks her curfew. Stern, judgmental and full of disappointment.

“I know” she groans, and lifts her face from the pillow to show him how desperate she looks. He’s not impressed.

Their discussion is interrupted by Maru, who opens the door without knocking. She is dressed as usual, in her blue dungarees, and her hands are dirty, but Abigail immediately gives up on pretending to feel bad and smiles widely.

“Hey” she says, because she is, after all, a very eloquent young woman, and Maru smiles too.

“Hi Abigail, didn’t know you were here, didn’t see you coming in” she responds, with her sweet voice, and Abigail smiles proudly.

“I can be quite sneaky when I want to” and then she has to throw the pillow she’s holding at a snickering Sebastian.

Oblivious to everything that’s happening, Maru starts digging in the mess that is supposed to be Sebastian well-organized desk.

“Have you seen my screwdriver?” Maru asks, and Sebastian sights.

Once Maru is gone, her screwdriver in her pocket and her smile still as beautiful as ever, Sebastian says, in the most disinterested voice ever:

“Stop flirting with my sister. It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m not flirting with her! I just said hello!”

Sebastian gives her the _stop lying to me and admit it_ look, and she gives up, and starts sulking instead, like a five-years-old. She manages to stay silent for approximately eight minutes and thirty seconds, the soft sound of Sebastian taping on his keyboard filing up the space between them, and then she snaps.

“I’m gonna need your help” she says, and Sebastian looks tired, all of the sudden.

Here is the thing: there is a book, a very interesting book with a leather cover and gold inscriptions. And there is also a librarian, with a blue hat and blue glasses, and a strict policy regarding some books, especially the very interesting ones with a leather cover and gold inscriptions. And here is the thing: Abigail is curious, and wants to read that very interesting book, because who doesn’t want to read a book with a leather cover and gold inscriptions?

“Me” had mumbled Sebastian when Abigail had told him that story.

And here is the thing: Abigail is young, Abigail has purple hair and a great sense of style and Abigail is pretty, not in a dashing way like Hayley but more in a “cute girl great personality” kind of way. And she knows it, because she is not blind, and Sam once told her that she was cool. Once. And he was a little drunk. Or high. And then he threw up in Mayor Lewis’s garden, and they had to run very fast to not get caught. It doesn’t matter.

So Abigail went to the library/museum/whatever the fuck this building is, and she flashed a big smile at the librarian, asked him about his day, and listened to him talks about the rock the local farmer brought him yesterday for at least twenty minutes before asking him in a sweet voice if she could read the interesting book he keep behind the counter. When he said no, she tried twirling her hair in her hands and biting her lips in what the movies she saw suggested was a sexy way, but to no avail. The librarian only repeated the book was not available for reading, because it was very old and very fragile. Abigail said she was used to handling fragile things (she even winked at that) and then the librarian asked her to go pester somebody else.

So here she is, pestering Sebastian instead of reading what is probably the most interesting book of the entire village. It’s not quite dark outside, and she still has time before her cursed curfew. Sebastian is pretending to be busy on in computer, probably programming some dumb… program thing, and not helping her at all, so she speaks to herself out loud, hoping he will get the message and stops staring at his screen.

“So the librarian is immune to my charm, which is a shame” she declares, with a false air of disdain. “I just have to find _someone_ who can convince him to give me the damn book. Maybe Elliott? He’s friend with him, right? Or Penny, he likes her I think, since he lets her teach the kids in his precious library…”

Sebastian just hums, the bastard. Then, when Abigail starts poking him in the harm, he sights and finally looks at her.

“Why are you so obsessed with this book?” he asks, in his I’m-so-fucking-tired-of-you voice.

“I told you, it looks interesting. It has a leather cover and gold inscriptions.”

Another jaded look is thrown at her, and she smiles with a confidence she doesn’t actually feel. She doesn’t know exactly _why_ this book is so important to her. She first saw it two weeks ago, and was immediately filed with the need to put her hands on it, and no matter how hard she tried to forget it, she couldn’t. Hence her failed attempt at seducing the librarian.

Sebastian shakes her head, and goes back to his computer. Abigail doesn’t like him when he’s like that. So she gets up from the bed, puts her shoes on, and crosses her arms on her chest with what she hopes is a bold face.

“I’m going to get that book no matter what” she announces, and Sebastian doesn’t even look up. “And you know who can help me?”

She pauses, for dramatic effect.

“The Wizard” she says, and Sebastian just absently nods.

So she leaves his room, says goodbye to Robin and Maru, who are enjoying a nice cup a tea in the kitchen, and she only feels a little disappointed when the latter only waves her hand at her, engrossed by the big science book she’s reading.

Well, she will deal with _that_ later.

* * *

The walk to the Wizard tower is a long one, but Abigail has mastered the art of power-walking since she was fifteen, and years of running home to respect her curfew have giving her stamina. And she likes walking through the woods alone, with only the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves around her. Sometimes, she sees Leah chopping trees for her next creation or sketching near the lake, and she always makes sure to not look totally out of breath when she’s around her little cabin. Leah is cool and pretty, and Abigail has a weak heart for this kind of things.

But she doesn’t see anyone in the forest, and she’s a little bit breathless when she arrives near the stairs leading to the crooked tower.

She knocks on the door, and patiently waits for the Wizard to let her in. She tried entering without waiting once, and she won’t do it again. The Wizard is a weird old man, but he can be very scary when he wants to, or when young ladies barge into his tower without warnings.

“Not you _again_ ” the Wizard sighs, opening the door just a crack, as if _he_ was the one scared of her.

“Yes, me again!” says Abigail, and she more or less forces her way into the tower, not paying attention to the suffering look of the Wizard. He likes her, she knows it, but he doesn’t want her to see it. Weird old man.

“What is it, this time? Do you need a enchantment for your sword? Did you eat an amethyst again?” he asks, as she makes her way to the cauldron. It’s kind of rude to remind her _that_ mistake, but she lets it pass. She needs his help, after all.

“No, not at all” she mumbles, taking a peek inside the cauldron. “Wow, that looks absolutely disgusting, what is it? Do you plan on poisoning someone? Is it my dad? Please say it’s my dad, he has been very annoying lately, and I wouldn’t mind at all.”

The Wizard just sighs again, a reaction Abigail is used to provoke, and he takes a seat at the table, which is covered with books and colorful vials and plants.

“It’s a potion to appease the mind” he answers, with just a tiny note of fatigue in his voice. “Don’t try to drink it, it was not made for you” he adds, when he sees her lifting a cup.

She slowly puts the cup down, pouting.

“Here is my problem” she starts, and the Wizard briefly closes her eyes. “There is this book at the library that I really wants to read, but the librarian won’t let me. Because it’s an old and fragile book, he says.”

“Just read another book” mutters the Wizard, but Abigail shakes her head.

“I can’t. Or rather, I don’t want to. It’s this book I want to read. I don’t know why. It’s like it’s calling me.”

Her words seem to catch the interest of the Wizard. His eyes tingles and he looks at her more closely.

For an unknown reason, Abigail likes it when he looks at her like that. She feels proud, almost too much. She doesn’t need the approval of a weirdo who lives in a reclusive tower and talks to plants, but still. It feels good.

They first started to talk when he founds her hanging around the tower, a year ago. She was bored out of her mind, and trying to find cool rocks to spice up her bedroom, and he came out to ask her not to stay too close because he was performing a ritual and he needed space and quiet. Abigail immediately liked him, with his dramatic robes and his big hat and his _purple_ hair, and she asked him if she could watch him, promising she will be quiet and not annoying at all.

He said no, but when he saw her disappointed face, he offered her to come the next morning for a cup a tea and an explanation on the magical properties of the rocks she was currently holding.

Abigail was pretty sure he now regretted being nice to her in the first place, but she was not letting their friendship go. He was one of the most interesting habitant of the valley, after all, and she learned a lot of cool stuff from him.

(That’s why she tried to eat an amethyst, because he told her they had soothing properties, and she was, after all, a bit stupid sometimes.)

“What does the book looks like?” asks the Wizard, and Abigail smiles.

“It has a leather cover and gold inscriptions on it. It’s kind of small” she responds, mimicking the size of the book with her hands.

“Hum” says the Wizard, and he gets up to go the bookcases that cover one of the walls. “Like that?” he asks, and he takes a small book with a leather cover and gold inscriptions on it, and hands it to her.

Abigail gasps, and rushes to catch the book. It’s exactly the same as the one in the library, maybe a little more pristine. But she doesn’t feel any satisfaction holding it, and she frowns. The Wizard smiles a little bit behind his moustache.

“What is this book?” asks Abigail, and she starts flipping through the pages. They are covered in a strange alphabet she can’t decipher, and she feels a pang of disappointment.

“This is what us wizards call our Arcane Book” answers the Wizard in a slightly too pompous tone. “Every young wizard receives one when he decides to take the path of witchcraft. They are quite precious, and rare. So don’t try to eat it.”

Abigail only rolls her eyes a little. She’s not totally stupid, and she wishes the Wizard will stop making references to that one mistake.

“What does it mean, then?” she asks, turning the book to look at its back cover.

The Wizard reaches for his book. He looks serious, and Abigail forces herself to match his grave expression.

“It means something I have been suspecting for quite a while now” he says, and he gently puts his hand on Abigail’s shoulder. “You have magical blood, kid. The book you saw in the library is you Arcane Book.”

* * *


	2. Rehearsal

“ _What is magic?_ ”

“Magic is a will. Magic is an exchange. Magic is the convergence of forces. Magic is giving something to have another thing. Magic is everywhere, but very few can see it and use it. Magic can be powerful and violent but also healing and smooth. Magic is not black or white, because magic doesn’t obey the pitiful moral laws of men. Magic exists, simply, and it is what we decide to do with it that defines it.”

Abigail nods. She’s taking notes, like a nerd. But the Wizard talks _a lot_ , and she knows she won’t remember everything he says if she doesn’t at least write down a thing or two. They are outside, in front of the lake near the Wizard’s tower, sitting underneath a tree. It’s still early, right before nine, and the sun is timidly shining beneath them. It’s nice, Abigail thinks.

The Wizard stops pacing. He has ditched the cape ten minutes ago, because it was starting to get warmer, and he takes off his hat to comb his fingers through his hair.

“What do you mean an exchange?” Abigail asks. “Like, my soul?”

The Wizard scoffs. He can be quite condescending, sometimes.

“Please, you soul have less value than a vulgar piece of the rock you are sitting on. Don’t be ridiculous.” Abigail can’t help but feels a little offended. “By exchange I mean, for every bit of magic you take, you have to somehow give back something. It can be something concrete, you see. A gem. A branch. But most magic users prefer to give something abstract.”

He finally sits next to her, and she gives him a questioning look, prompting him to develop his explanation.

“I first said magic was a will. The will to change things, to help or to hurt someone. This is the first thing young magic users learn: how to turn their _desire_ to do something into an exchangeable good. Do you understand?”

Abigail nods again.

“Good. If you understand this, maybe you won’t lose an eye or a leg like so many young wizards have in the past” grunts the Wizard, which is not reassuring at all, thanks you very much, but Abigail stays quiet, for once. The Wizard has been in a pretty good mood during their lesson, and she doesn’t want to ruin it with her big mouth and lack of tact.

“This is very interesting, but how is it supposed to help me retrieve my book?” she tentatively asks, in a almost too polite voice.

And she feels strange saying “my book”, but she thinks she earned it. She got up super early to meet to Wizard in the middle of the forest, and she didn’t even had the time to eat a proper breakfast. Plus, her parents are probably going to be suspicious of her getting up so early, and she will have to endure their nerves-grating questions when she returns home. So, it’s only fair she gets to call the Arcane Book _her_.

“If you are not serious about this, we will have to stop” warns the Wizard, with a stern look. “You need proper preparation before diving head first into the deep mysteries of magic.”

There they are the dramatics. Abigail is surprised her new teacher waited so long before delivering such a theatrical phrase. From what she had saw, being a wizard was all about being a mysterious grouchy old man, wearing capes and lecturing young ladies about not eating gemstones or whatever. Abigail is pretty sure she could nail it. She likes wearing black dress with laces and big boots, and she has done a little bit of theater in high school, before being kicked off the club from being, quote unquote, “a goddamn nuisance”. Their loss, she had though at the time.

“But when will I be able to read this book?” she complains, knowing she probably sounds like a child. “I can’t go to the library anymore, because it just… tempts me. I even dreamt about it last night, and I can tell you, I’m not used to dream about books.”

The Wizard sights, just a little bit, and gets up, retrieves his cape from the branch it was hanging, and scratches his beard.

Abigail wonders if she will have to grow a beard, too.

“Tomorrow, we will go see this… librarian. Surely, he’s a reasonable man, and he will listen to me.”

“He didn’t listen to _me_ ” Abigail points out, and the Wizard rolls his eyes, which is not very in character for him.

“Yes, because you are a twenty-something years old who doesn’t know how to properly ask for things and thinks you just have to speak louder than your interlocutor to win a conversation.”

Abigail opens her mouth, but the Wizard is already leaving. She feels… hurt. Just a little bit. She has heard far worse things, mainly from the other kids when she was in high school. She expected the Wizard to sugar-coat things a bit more, that’s all.

She gets up, puts her notebook in her bag, and goes home.

* * *

“What are you going to do this afternoon?” her father asks during lunch.

Abigail takes the time to finish the big bite of chicken she just took. Her mother gives her a pointed look.

“I don’t know yet, probably going to Sam’s place, he wants to rehearse his new song” she says. “I also have a paper to work on, but it’s no big deal.”

“I need help to restock the store” his father quips, and he does that thing with his glasses Abigail hates, pushing them with his ring finger before letting them slip to the edge of his nose. “If you don’t have anything _important_ to do, that is” he adds.

“The band is important” Abigail mumbles, not quite looking her father in the eyes.

Her father just coughs and her mother asks if anyone want more green beans, thus ending the conversation. Abigail mentally thanks her mother, and as soon as she is done eating, she runs away.

She arrives at Sam’s place thirty minutes early, but Jody is “delighted” to see her, and asks her a million questions about online classes, as usual.

“I wish Sam did that to. It will make me a little bit more confident for his future” she says, in a sad voice.

Abigail awkwardly smiles. Jody is nice, but she sometimes drops metaphorical bombs about her family or herself, and Abigail never knows how to react. Sam appears in the living room, with the face of someone who just woke up and is not ready for the outside world yet, and Abigail feels relieved. She lets him grab something to eat and ignore his mother’s comments on his sleep schedule, and they hide in his room as soon as Jody leaves for her aerobic classes.

“So, about this new song?” Abigail asks, and she sits on Sam’s bed while he eats the mayo-chips-pepper sandwich he made. It honestly looks disgusting, but Sam seems perfectly content with it, so Abigail doesn’t comment on it.

“Oh it’s great, wait until you hear it, I’m really proud” Sam says, between two big bites of his sandwich. He’s still wearing his pajamas, and his hair is down. “It’s about this frog that lost his friend. It’s kind of tragic, but also very metaphorical.”

“Did Sebastian help you write it?”

Sam doesn’t answer just nods, and Abigail laughs. He finishes his disgusting sandwich, and they talks about the song for two hours, try to find a good rhythm that fit the melancholic-yet-energetic feeling of the tale of the frog, and they only stop banging on the desk while yelling part of the lyric when Kent and Vincent come home and the kid complains about the noise. Then they go outside and Sam does trick with his skateboard while Abigail talks about the paper she has to do. It’s still early when they go on their separate way, because Sam has to baby-sit his brother because his father is going out for a fishing thing with Willy and Leah, and Abigail knows she has to go help her own father with the store.

“Did you have fun?” asks her father in a not-very-interested voice, and Abigail says yes, and goes to the back-room to get the parsnips.


	3. The Library

The next morning, Abigail wakes up at eight and groans for ten minutes before getting up. She eats her cereals and her mother, who is enjoying a cup of tea with pin curls in her hair, looks at her very strangely.

“Are you sick?” she asks, and Abigail munches on her cereals and wonders if she can just ignore the question and go unharmed. Knowing her mother, she can’t.

“No, I just have things to do. I want to go to the library” is her prudent answer, and her mother sips her tea loudly, not bothering to break the eye contact. She hums.

“Good for you, my child” she says, in a sing-song voice, as if she knows Abigail is not telling her the whole story. “Are you going with your friends?”

“No, Sam is probably going to sleep until two, and Sebastian is too lazy.”

Her mother just smiles, in a very motherly way, and nods with a fond look in her face. Abigail finishes her cereals.

“Wash your bowl, darling” says her mother, and Abigail obeys, goes to her room to put on some clothes, and then comes back to kiss her cheek.

“See you at lunch” she says, and her mother smiles.

Sometimes, Abigail wonders how much of her life her mother knows but doesn’t tell her. It’s scary. She seems to understand things better than her father, and for all the parental disapproval she faced when she dyed her hair purple, her mother’s bright green hair has never been brought up.

She walks across the town square, avoids Evelyn, who is very sweet but also way too chatty and if Abigail says hi to her she knows she will be stuck for at least twenty minutes listening to the last hot gossip of the communal garden or Alex’s new workout or something like that. So Abigail hides and runs and she crosses the bridge without bumping into anyone.

It’s still early, barely nine o’clock, but the Wizard is here, waiting in front of the library with his capes and his hat and his _everything_. He’s not at all trying to blend in, and Abigail finds it very funny. The Wizard is looking at the building with pinched frowns and hands on his hips, as if it had insulted him, and Abigail stops near him.

“This library is strange” says the Wizard instead of something normal, like _hi, how are you, did you sleep well my young apprentice_?

“How so?” asks Abigail, instead of _hello, I slept well and you my dear teacher_?

The Wizard turns his eyes to her, seems to evaluate her and the sincerity of her question, and then shrugs.

“If you can’t feel it, I don’t see the point in explaining it to you” he mumbles, and Abigail frowns in turn, offended.

She looks at the green building, the little note displaying the opening and closing hours, the hanging potted plants and everything, and she _tries_ to feel something odd. But except the usual veil of silence and dust and _oldness_ that has always hovered around the library for her, she doesn’t feel anything different.

“Do you mean the veil of silence and dust and oldness that hovers around the library?” she asks, and the Wizard looks surprised at that and his eyes squints, passing from the building to Abigail.

“I wouldn’t have described it like that, but yes. How long have you been able to feel it?”

“Since… well, since the librarian arrived in the village. I think.”

The Wizard just stares at her for an uncomfortable amount of seconds before shaking his head, clearly trying not to show his disbelief and making a poor job at it.

“Let’s go” he says, with a grumpy tone, and Abigail smiles brightly at him and pushes the door.

At this hour of the day, the library is empty. It’s quiet and lazy in the morning, with the sun entering the windows, the slow hum of the computer, and the tall shelves that stretch toward the ceiling. And there is no librarian at the desk.

And behind the desk, the glass cabinet with the book that Abigail desperately wants to hold in her hands, and she almost melts in a puddle at the sight. She feels so happy and relieved and hopeful and she totally ignores the weird noise the Wizard makes when he stops behind her.

“This place is strange” he says, but Abigail is not listening to him, making a beeline to the front desk and bending to see _her_ book behind the glass.

The sound of footsteps echoes in the room, and she straightens (ah!) herself so she doesn’t look totally stupid in front of what she guesses is the librarian. The Wizard frowns. The door behind the desk opens.

It’s the librarian, indeed. He’s not wearing his usual blue suit today, just a white shirt and beige pants, and his fancy cowboy hat is absent. He seems surprised to see them, perhaps more by the presence of the Wizard in his walls, but he polity smiles.

“You are very early today” he says, looking at Abigail, who usually comes to the library in the afternoon. She shrugs. She doesn’t feel like doing small talk today. “I believe we have not met yet” adds the librarian, this time looking at the Wizard from behind his blue-tinted glasses.

To Abigail’s surprise, the Wizard seems frozen. Despite the studious environment, he looks very out of place, with his cape and hat, and she refrains from laughing.

“Rasmodius, I live in Cindersap Forest, and I do not come in the village very often” he finally says, and his voice cracks at the end of his sentence, as if he was suppressing a sudden cough.

As if it was perfectly normal for a guy dressed up like a cosplay of a bad anime character from the early 90’s to be in his library, the librarian nods with another polite smile. Then his face takes a stern expression, and he looks at Abigail with suspicion.

“You are not here for the book, are you? I already told you, it’s a very old and fragile artifact, I don’t let people touch this kind of things” he says, his voice low and slow, almost professor-like. Abigail briefly wonders if he was a teacher before taking up the role of librarian/museum curator.

“It’s exactly why I’m here” Abigail responds, and at the same time, the Wizard says “No, we are not here for that”.

She turns her head to look at him, surprised, and he claps his hand on her shoulder in a almost painful grip.

“Let’s talk outside” the Wizard says, and he literally drags her through the door under the surprised eyes of the librarian.

Abigail frees herself from the hand when he stops a few meters from the door, and she puts her hands on her hips, trying to conjure up the dreadful stance her mother adopts when she asks her to clean her bedroom.

“What was _that_? Are you getting cold feet?” she almost yells, grateful for the fact that nobody seems to be near the building.

The Wizard takes a big, calming breath, and looks at her with a very serious face.

“When did this man arrive in the village?” he inquires. Abigail frowns.

“I don’t know, maybe a couple years ago. You will have to ask Lewis for that, I only started going to the library recently. But why is that important?”

The Wizard stays silent for a few seconds, seemingly deeply in though. He looks at the building, then back at Abigail. Then he sights.

“This man is a Guardian.”

Abigail feels like she’s supposed to gasp or something like that, to react very dramatically to this revelation, but she just makes a face.

“You don’t know what a guardian is” the Wizard realizes, in a resigned voice, and Abigail shakes her head. “A Guardian is… a mortal, granted with the power of protecting precious things. It’s been a long time I last saw one of them. They are rare. Even rarer than wizards and witches.”

“And what’s the difference between a… guardian, and a wizard?” asks Abigail, because she can’t really understand what the concept implies.

Voices erupt from behind the building, and the Wizard looks up, almost owlishly, and he grabs Abigail arms and pulls her toward the bridge.

“A Guardian is not a fighter, nor can they cast spells. They are not gifted with the ability to understand the voice of Nature, and they are utterly useless at potion making. But whatever comes in their possession is immediately protected. Guardians tend to be very possessive, you see” the Wizards explains, dragging Abigail toward the bridge that leads to the beach.

“But if they can’t do magic, how can they protect their stuff?” Abigail asks, whishing the Wizard was not such a misanthrope. They could have stayed near the library. She’s not wearing her best shoes for the beach, and her mother will kill her if she brings sand with her at lunch.

The Wizard walks in silence, probably pondering the best way to explain how a Guardian works, and she keeps her mouth shut.

The beach is empty, with only a few seagulls hanging around, picking at the sand and yelling at each other. If she squints her eyes, Abigail can vaguely see the silhouette of Willy on the dock. Eliott’s cabin is silent, but the Wizard still goes toward the opposite end of the beach. He sits on a piece of driftwood, and takes off his hat. It’s still quite early, but the sun is bright and Abigail starts to feel hot. But she has an aesthetic, and a little bit of sweat is not gonna persuade her to wear white clothes.

“It’s intuitive magic” the Wizard finally says. A seagull hops in their direction, and he gives her a stern look that immediately stops the hopping. “Let’s say a Guardian receives a precious object. A book, a artifact, anything. If they feel like it needs protecting, the object is immediately linked to them. A protecting ward is weaved, and if anybody tries to take the object without the approval of their Guardian…”

“They die?” Abigail suggests, and the Wizard shrugs.

“Let’s just say they are cursed, it’s easier to understand.”

They just stay like this, in total silence, and the Wizard is looking at his feet, holding his chin in his right hand, the left one doing weird little movement in the air next to his head. Abigail sees Eliott coming out of his cabin, and she waves at him when he sees her. He waves back, but doesn’t come any closer, instead taking the path to the village.

“So, what does it mean?” Abigail dares to ask. She doesn’t want to interrupt whatever the Wizard is currently doing, but she also doesn’t want to wait until he’s finished. She’s starting to feel hot, and the sand is getting into her shoes at an alarming speed.

“I don’t know yet. I’m still wondering how did a Guardian got into this town without me noticing.”

Abigail wants to tell him that he never goes to the village, so that’s maybe a clue, but she doesn’t. The Wizard seems upset. Almost offended. She suppresses a grin.

“Well, if you’re not going to move, I’m gonna go. I don’t like standing up in the sun doing nothing” she announces, and the Wizard doesn’t even raise his eyes. “If I tell you I’m going to go back to the library, will you try to stop me?” she asks, suddenly serious, and the shift in her tone prompts the Wizard to stop his weird hand movement, and he looks at her.

“Yes. This man is a Guardian. He’s not going to let you have this Arcane Book. He’s still polite, but if you insist too much, you will trigger his possessive side, and I will not be here to protect you in time.”

The grim seriousness of his tone, very different from his usual dramatic gravity, is enough to convince Abigail to not try anything stupid.

“No need to be so gloomy, I’m not going to go back to the library. I have other things to do. And you are my teacher. I have to listen to you, don’t I?” and she smiles, and the Wizard finally stops looking so depressed, and he gets up and puts his hat back. He nods, all theatrical and solemn.

“Indeed, you are my student. Meet me in the afternoon near the lake. I will have found a plan by then.”

* * *

Abigail avoids her mother questioning glare with the “run to you room when you see her approaching” technique and she is filled with a motivational boost that allows her to finish her essay in only an hour and fourteen minutes (half of it devoted to looking at her phone trying to find the perfect way to explain her idea). She hears three knocks on her door as she sends the essay to her professor, and she yells “YES”, and fully expects her mother to barge into her room, saying she shouldn’t be yelling because it’s not _proper_.

But it’s her father who opens the door, trying to look relaxed and perfectly at ease by leaning against the doorframe. But his smile looks like a wince, as if he had drank a full bottle of lemon juice before coming to her bedroom.

“Are you busy?” he asks, and Abigail checks if the mail had been sent before turning her chair to face him.

“I just finished my essay, and mom asked me to help her prepare lunch, why?”

Her father pushes his glasses back, and then lets them slides to the tip of his nose. He’s avoiding her eyes.

“Eliott came to the store this morning” he finally says, and Abigail curses herself for thinking her little escapades with the Wizard could have gone unnoticed in such a small village. “You were on the beach this morning, he told me. I though you planned to go to the library, as your mother said.”

He’s avoiding her eyes AND the elephant in the room. Typical. He hates confrontation.

“I changed my plans. The weather was nice, so I decided to take a little walk on the beach. Don’t worry, I took off my shoes before coming home. I know mom hates sand.”

Her father vaguely smiles, but doesn’t seem satisfied. Abigail is curious to see how he’s going to ask her why she was with the Wizard.

“Eliott also told me you were not alone” her father muses, probably hoping she will give up and tells him everything.

She won’t. She always wondered why he was acting like this sometimes, tiptoeing around certain subjects with timidity that doesn’t fit with his character. He’s usually more of a bulldozer.

“But he didn’t see who was with you. Told me he didn’t recognize them” her father adds, and she gives up, closes her computer and gets up.

“I was with M.Rasmodius” she announces.

She knows her father doesn’t like the Wizard. She spent her childhood listening to him rant about _the weirdo who lives in a tower and doesn’t speak to anyone_ for hours, her mother smiling absently while pretending to listen to him, and she never quite understood why he had such vivid feelings about this guy he probably never talked to.

As expected, the thin layer of confidence and relaxed attitude of her father immediately vanishes, and his eyes bulge almost comically.

“What were you doing with this… this… weirdo?” he asks, almost out of breath, the shock probably constricting his throat.

“Just chatting. He’s nice, once you get to know him” says Abigail, shrugging, and she idly picks up a few discarded clothes on the floor to put them on her chair.

“Young lady, I absolutely forbid you from getting to know this man” her father announces, with a severe voice, and he even shakes a finger in front of his face for good measure.

“Why not?”

Her father apparently didn’t plan things to go this far, because he stays silent for a few seconds, trying to find a good reason. Abigail waits patiently.

“Because he doesn’t have a good reputation around here, I already told you that” he finally says, deflating like a balloon. He glances at the impressive collection of gems displayed on a shelf near Abigail’s desk. “You are already _unusual_ , Abigail, and I don’t want you to start talking to trees or anything weird like that.”

Abigail rolls her eyes, and crossed her arms on her chest.

“I think I’m old enough to decide who I’m hanging around with, dad. Don’t worry, I won’t scare of the clients with my _unusualness_. I keep that behind closed doors. And I think mom needs me in the kitchen.”

Not waiting for a response, she bypasses her father defeated form and crosses the hallway. It’s still early, and she hates cooking, but she would much rather hangs in the kitchen with her mother than listens to another of her father’s little speech about her being a weirdo.

Her mother is preparing a chicken and smiles at her when she sees her at the door.

“Can you peel the potatoes for me, sweetie? I want to make a casserole” she asks, and Abigail nods and grabs the peeler.

Her father’s words echo in her head as she gets to work.

_"Unusual"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of going with the flow so i don't have anything planned for this, but this will probably be a 10 chapters fic or something like that ? As usual pls tell me if there is big mistakes or weird typos <3


	4. The Plan

_Sam-Sam: Hey are u free this afternoon I have a new soooong_

_Abs: No srry I have homework ): tomorrow ?_

_Sam-Sam: u care abt homework now? Who are u_

_Abs: I want to get my degree and it’s almost the end of the year_

_Sam-Sam: neeeerd_

_Sam-Sam: actually my mom is bugging me with college stuff she doesn’t want me to spend my life working at Jojo so_

_Sam-Sam: will u help me find some online classes? I don’t know where to start_

_Abs: ofc_

_Abs: who’s the nerd now?_

_Sam-Sam: still u. I’m too cool to be a nerd :p_

_Abs: keep telling urself these lies, but u can’t escape ur true self boy_

Abigail puts her phone in her pocket with a little smile. She took a nap after lunch and she feels refreshed, and she royally ignores her father’s glare as she crosses the store. He doesn’t say anything, but she knows he wants to stop her, lock her in her room and lecture her about befriending weird strangers.

But Marnie and Lewis and Leah are in the store, so making a scene is not possible, at least for a man like her father, who wants everything and everyone to act proper and polite. Abigail says hi to the customer, especially to Leah, who looks like she took a nap in a bush before coming to the store – she has leaves and twigs in her hair, and Abigail kind of wants to gently take them off for her but she doesn’t have the time, so she settles for a warm smile, and receives a friendly wave and a wink in return. Her heart maybe skips a beat or two, but she ignores it. 

It’s still hot outside. Spring is coming to an end, and it’s really not Abigail’s favorite time of the year. Too much sun and sweat and dust. But it also means fall is approaching, which is nice.

People are wandering in the town’s square, waving at friends and acquaintances, and Abigail walks fast to avoid any unwanted small talks. Maru and Penny are hanging out together near the graveyard, and she feels just a little pang of jealousy when she sees them. Penny has always been nice to her, but Abigail can’t help but feel like she’s scared of her or something like that. But Penny seems scared of a lot of things, after all. She deserves a good friend like Maru.

She doesn’t see anyone on her way to the forest. It’s quiet, and the lake is still. She almost starts running when she sees the purple silhouette of the Wizard in the distance, but decides not to. She doesn’t want to appear all sweaty and out of breath.

“You are almost not late” says the Wizard when she stops next to him.

“Emphasis on almost”

And the Wizard _smiles_ , which is weird and kind of out of character for him, but Abigail doesn’t dwell on it.

“So, what’s the plan? I hope it goes better than me trying to seduce the librarian, because let me tell you, it does not work. Dude’s a rock” she says.

The Wizard immediately stops smiling and looks at her weirdly, as if she had sprouted a second head.

“You did _what_?”

“I tried to seduce the librarian. Didn’t work, I don’t know why honestly, I’m cute. Well, I think I’m cute? I don’t know, the only persons who compliment me are my mom when she’s in a good mood, and Sebastian when he’s high. And Sam told me I was cool, once. Does it count?”

She’s babbling, and the Wizard is not stopping her. Abigail starts worrying; maybe he’s having a heart-attack? How old is he, anyway? Can wizards get heart-attacks?

“I… you…” says the Wizard, apparently struggling to digest what she is saying. “Did you really think it would work?”

“Well, you don’t know unless you try it”

Another suffering sigh and the Wizard takes off his hat to scratch his head. He does that when he’s stressed out, Abigail notes.

“And what would you have done if your stupid plan worked?” asks the Wizard, and he looks very serious. And almost worried. Which is weird.

“I would have grabbed the book and ran. Easy”

“And you would have been cursed for eternity for angering a Guardian. Don’t make plan like that, it’s stupid and dangerous.”

“It was _before_ I told you about the book! I didn’t know this guy was a super magical librarian!” Abigail says, and maybe she’s yelling a little bit, but the Wizard’s concern is starting to feel just like her dad’s lectures, and she doesn’t want that.

The Wizard stays silent.

“I didn’t plan on taking it too far, you know” Abigail tries to calm her voice. “I’m a lesbian, so he didn’t have a chance.”

“You’re a _lesbian_?” the Wizard repeats, and he sounds… not angered or disgusted or anything, but kind of shocked, and maybe a little amused. By what, Abigail doesn’t know.

She looks at him in the eyes, trying to be serious. He looks almost embarrassed now. He’s scratching his head like a dog with fleas.

“Thanks for… telling me… I guess? I mean, I hope you didn’t feel pressured to tell me, it must be important for you… so… thanks. I support you. Well. Do you want me to? Support you, I mean.”

Abigail laughs. The Wizard sounds like he just read a “how to react when your friend tells you they’re gay” notice on the internet. It’s hilarious.

“I think we should just move on. What’s your plan” she asks, and the Wizard looks absolutely thankful for her diversion.

They talks about his plan for twenty minutes, then they set off to the library.

* * *

Gunther likes being a librarian and museum curator.

It’s peaceful, quiet, and useful. He helps people, chooses books for them and they can talk about it when the books return. He cleans the shelves and the artifacts the Farmer brings him, and writes little descriptions for them when it’s needed. He reads when he has the time, and on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, when Penny tutors the kids, he sometimes comes to their tables to help them with a particularly hard reading exercise, or with a history lesson. It’s nice, and he often congratulates himself for taking the position when Lewis asked him to.

It’s the Farmer who brought him the strange book he has put on display in the glass cabinet, right behind his desk. He doesn’t exactly know what the book is, what is its purpose, but it’s really nice to look at, and the strange and incomprehensible writings inside are truly fascinating. So he kept it, and when the young lady with purple hair and black clothes asked him if she could read it, he said no.

The book is powerful, dangerous maybe, and this young lady – Abigail, he thinks, he’s not familiar with all of the villagers, despite having lived in the town for more than two years – doesn’t seem like someone he can trust. If Penny had asked about the book, maybe he would have considered letting her read it. But Abigail? Not a chance. Something is not quite right with her, and Gunther is a cautious man.

She came back three times, each tentative more ridiculous than the last, and after her rather hilarious attempt at seducing him, he had though she had given up. But this morning, she was here again. With a strange man, dressed in black, with a hat and a beard and purple hairs, just like her, and for a second, Gunther had though it was her father.

Then he had remembered Abigail’s father was the owner of the general store he went to get groceries. But this man was still strange. Powerful, he could feel it, in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time.

But they left just after he arrived, and Gunther had put the incident in a corner of his mind, because the library needed a good clean-up session and nothing really happened.

When the clock says it’s almost closing time, Gunther feels relieved. Abigail and her strange friend are not here, and he goes to the reading area to tell Eliott the museum is closing soon. The young man apologizes for not checking the time, puts the novel he was reading on the shelf, and leaved, bidding him good afternoon.

Gunther likes Eliott. He always puts the books in their designate places, and he’s very polite. Penny is also a favorite, her soft manners and good taste in novels pushing Gunther to help her when she is with the kids. These two, of course, are welcomed visitors, despite their tendency to cause quite the ruckus when one of them didn’t agree with the other. But they always wash their hands before coming, and they don’t bring any snacks in the library, so Gunther tolerates them with good humor.

He closes the door and turns off the lights, checks the windows, and takes the stairs hidden behind the desk that leads to the little apartment he lives in. It’s small, but cozy, and it’s enough for him. He’s a simple man: a kettle for tea and a bookshelf are the only things he needs to feel at home.

He boils some water, makes himself a nice cup of tea with the herbs the nice lady with green hair gave him two days ago – Caroline is her name, he thinks, and he’s pretty sure she’s Abigail’s mother. The unnatural hair color runs in the family, apparently. He sits in his comfy armchair, takes the detective novel he has being reading for three days, and he finally relaxes.

* * *

“What are you doing?” Abigail asks, in a hushed tone.

“I already told you, I’m casting a sleeping spell” says the Wizard in the same tone.

Maybe, but it doesn’t look like he’s doing anything, really. He’s just standing still, his eyes locked on the library, his face all crunched in concentration. And it’s already being ten minutes, and Abigail is bored. She always imagined magic to be more… theatrical, maybe. A little more sparkly.

“I’m bored” she informs, usefully. The Wizard doesn’t react.

They are hidden behind a tree, near the library. It’s after six so nobody has passed their little hideout since they arrived, and Abigail leans against a tree, pouting.

“Is it done?” she asks, two minutes later.

“If you keep talking like that it will never be done” the Wizard whispers and he makes a little waving motion with his left hand. A soft and warm wind passes through them, smelling of sweet spices and fresh grass, and in the distance, Abigail hears a little lullaby, very far away, and she wonders if it’s in her head or not.

“It’s done” the Wizard says, satisfied, and he looks at her. “You are not feeling sleepy, are you?”

“Should I be?”

He seems to hesitate. Then nods.

“How is your plan better than mine if there is a chance for me to fall asleep?” Abigail ponders, and even if she’s not totally serious, the Wizard looks upset.

“There are a lot of variables to consider, and ideally, I would have first tested the potency of the spell on you, to see if you were truly able to resist it. But we didn’t have the time to do that. So I had to have faith in your ability to resist the spell” he explains, slowly.

“Faith, hum.”

But Abigail doesn’t insist. She’s not feeling sleepy, rather the opposite, and the Wizard is right.

“We can go now” the Wizard simply says, and they leave their hiding place and go to the door of the library in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you are all doing ok, stay safe and stay inside if u can


	5. Trouble (?)

The only experience with breaking in illegally in a house Abigail has is when Sam forgot his keys, six months ago, and he had to lift her up to the kitchen windows of his home so she could open the door for him. His parents were not here, and Vincent was at Marnie’s place and it wasn’t like he had the keys, so Abigail had accepted to help his friend. She had almost gotten stuck in the windows, and she had strained her wrist when she jumped down the counter, but overall it was a fun experience.

It was very different from what she was doing right now.

The Wizard had opened the door with a simple hand gesture and a little spell – speaking too low for Abigail to pick it up clearly – and now they are in the library, standing near the desk. It’s very silent, and dark, and honestly kind of creepy. Abigail is not a coward, but without the sunlight and the hushed conversations of the readers and the usual activity, the library is a strange place. The atmosphere is almost oppressive. She’s glad the Wizard is with her.

“Did the sleeping spell work?” she asks, and her whisper seems to echo in the empty room.

“If it hadn’t, the Guardian would have sensed our intrusion.”

It will do, Abigail decides, and she walks to the desk, and looks at the book. There is not enough light for her to see the details, but she knows it’s here. She feels it more than she sees it, in fact. It’s like a little beacon of warmth and serenity.

She smiles.

The Wizard doesn’t waste any time contemplating the book. He reaches out with his left hand, whispers something and the glass cracks and breaks with a strident noise that should have alerted the occupant of the library. But when the shards stop falling and the silence returns, no sounds of an angry librarian is heard, and Abigail deeply exhales, relieved.

“Takes the Arcane Book” the Wizard says, and Abigail climbs over the desk with an embarrassing lack of grace and grabs _her_ book.

Oh, it’s so much more satisfying than she though. The book is warm, and soft under her fingers, and she almost hears a sort of happy sight that’s not coming from her when she takes it. Something calm and reassuring wraps around her, and all of her anxiety and fear disappear, the library not a dark and creepy place anymore.

“No time to admire your book, we have to go” says the Wizard, but his voice seems distant, almost stifled. Abigail puts the book against her chest, breathing deeply. She feels a hand in her shoulder, and maybe the Wizard is dragging her across the room, but she honestly doesn’t care what’s happening around her. She has her book. Nothing else matter.

She realizes with a shock that they are outside, near the bridge, and the Wizard is shaking her by the shoulder with a worried look on her face. She snaps out of her almost drunken state with a gasp.

“Stop hugging your book” the Wizard is asking, clearly more nervous than he shows. “Come back. You are in shock.”

“You are the one in shock” Abigail protests, and her voice sounds weird, slurred like when she’s drunk. The Wizard raises one eyebrow. He lets Abigail goes, and she staggers a little bit on her feet. She giggles.

Oh, this is not good. She never giggles. She _laughs_ , like a proper adult. The book is more powerful than she though.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little bit… dazed” she tries, and she clears her throat and shakes her head. It’s barely past seven and the sun is still up, and it helps her. The Wizard looks at her closely, probably expecting her to do something crazy like singing or talking to trees or _giggling_.

“Stop hugging your book” he repeats, less worried, more exasperated. Abigail vaguely pouts and slowly removes the book from where it’s pressed against her chest. She immediately misses the warmth, but the Wizard seems satisfied. He shakes his head and scratches his beard.

“I should have known that you would react so… strongly.”

Abigail just hums, looking at her book. She doesn’t care.

“Listen to me” says the Wizard, and she raises her head, reluctantly. “You have to be careful. This Arcane Book is yours, but it’s still a powerful vessel. The knowledge it contains calls for the utmost caution.”

He awkwardly pats Abigail’s shoulder.

“Let’s go. Staying near the crime scene is not going to help us appear innocent.”

And with that, he turns around and crosses the bridge with long strides, not running but almost. Abigail follows him, her legs still a bit wobbly, but overall feeling really okay. Almost giddy, like a kid on the morning of the Feast of the Morning Star. She feels like she just opened the most marvelous present of her life and she doesn’t even register the “crime scene” expression. She will deal with that later, she thinks, vaguely aware that she’s probably banned from the library for the rest of her life.

“Abigail” the Wizard calls, and he stops near the graveyard. Abigail jogs a little bit to join him. “We will meet again tomorrow morning. I feel drained, and I need to replenish my energy before teaching you how to use this book. Don’t do anything stupid, and don’t go near the library.”

“Do you really think I hang around the library after the opening hours in my free time?”

The Wizard just gives her a stern look, adjusts his hat, then turns tail and leaves, just like that. Abigail watches him disappear. The town is quiet, most people gathered in their home to talks about their day while diner is cooking, and the graveyard is peaceful, a gentle breeze toying with Abigail’s hair, the tombs illuminated by the setting sun. The book is still warm in her hands, and she absently rubs the leather cover with her fingers.

Tomorrow, she will learn what to do with it. Today, she simply enjoys a quiet and peaceful moment.

* * *

The Wizard should not be tired. A sleeping spell is easy to cast, and opening doors is one of the easiest things to do; breaking glass is usually more amusing than draining. So why, he ponders, does he feel so exhausted when he pushes the door of his home?

He’s welcomed by the faint bubbling of his cauldron, where a fertilizing potion is boiling, and the bell-like sound of the suspended vials near the ceilings. He needs to inform the Farmer that the potion for their plants is ready, he thinks, taking off his hat and his cape.

He needs a strong cup of tea, maybe even some meditation. He had underestimated the power of the Guardian. Even asleep, the man was fiercely protecting his library. It is worrying, the Wizard decides, and he drags his feet to his tea collection, waving his hand to turn on his kettle. Magic is very useful when you are lazy.

Five minutes later, he finally relaxes, comfortably installed in his armchair, his feet propped up on his desk. He scratches his beard and takes a sip of his tea, and he can finally hear the little whispers of the forest spirit around him. The little creatures like him, but they are shy and easily disrupted. They must have felt his unease.

He lets them come at their own pace. They slowly fill the gap between the stones, whisper things and giggle and fall, roll on the ground and stop behind him. He pretends not to have seen them, reading a book about counter-spell with false interest. One of the little spirit climbs on the table, trying to hide behind a pile of books. The spirit is yellow, and when the Wizard looks at it, it stops moving, like a game of red light green light. It’s cute, and the Wizard smiles, looks at his book, and when he sees the little spirit moving from the corner of his eyes, he raises his head and the spirit just falls flat on the table, his weird cute face hidden.

The Wizard chuckles. The little spirits are good for his mood. He slowly reaches out, and let the spirit comes, curiosity written all over his round body. Oh, the Wizard loves them, and when the little spirit bumps his head against his hand, his smile turns fond.

He feels better, and the little spirits have invaded his home, lounging on the shelves and near the fireplace. The Wizard has to be careful when he goes to the cauldron, because stepping on a little spirit seems rude.

“What am I going to do?” he asks, checking the consistency of the potion with a stick. A little spirit rolls and bumps against his legs. “I didn’t even notice this Guardian was among the villagers. Am I getting to old for this?”

Another little spirit jumps on its sibling’s head, swaying dangerously.

“And young Abigail seems to be more powerful than I though. It’s been a long time since I had a student. Am I going to be enough? Should I contact other witches and wizards?”

The only answer he gets is the high-pitched scream of two little spirits falling from one of the shelves. The Wizard gives them a falsely irritated glare. He’s way too fond of the little round things to be angry at them. But they should be more careful.

He grabs an empty jar from the table, and pours the potion in it, slowly, careful not to spill a drop on the wood floor. He doesn’t want to wake up the next morning with a full grown tree in his room. 

“I should meditate. It will help clear my mind” he decides, and a little spirit chirps, as if agreeing with him. He smiles, and closes the jar. He needs to send a message to the Farmer to tell them the potion is ready. They should be able to come in the morning to retrieve it.

The Wizard whistles and the crow that lives in his attic flies down and lands on his shoulder, its talons digging into his flesh. It’s not a real crow, in fact, more like the embodiment of a powerful spell, but the Wizard is too tired for semantic. He write down a little note to inform the Farmer the potion is ready, and hands it to the crow. The bird takes the piece of paper in his talons, and croaks.

“Yes, yes, I know” the Wizard mutters and he slowly makes his way to the door, stepping over piles of little spirit with utter care. He opens the door, and the crow takes off, croaking one last time in the sunset. 

Then the Wizard looks down, and the Guardian is looking at him from the bottom of the stairs leading to the tower, a very angry expression on his face.

 _Oh oh, I’m in trouble_ , says a little voice in the Wizard’s head, one he hasn’t heard in a long, long time.


	6. The Confrontation

_Sam-Sam: do u want to smoke weed?_

_Abs: what kind of question is that u sound like a cop dude_

_Sam-Sam: is that a yes?_

_Abs: it’s always a yes_

Sam is sitting on the bench near the (newly restored) Community Center. Sebastian is standing beside him, his hands hidden in the pockets of the black hoodie he insists on wearing despite the fact that summer is right around the corner, and even Abigail resigned herself to switch to short-sleeved clothes. His cheeks are a little red in the yellowish light of the lamppost, and Abigail bits her lips. She wants to make fun of him so badly, but he’s probably the one who brought the weed, so pissing him off is not a good idea.

“Good evening, my friends” she says, and Sam lifts his head from the joint he’s rolling to smile at her.

“Nice of you to join us, my fair lady” he responds, and Sebastian mumbles what sounds like a salutation, but could also be a swear word. He is in a bad mood, apparently.

Abigail plops down next to Sam, and sights. It’s still warm despite the dark sky, and insects are buzzing around them. It’s nice, Abigail decides. It’s normal and plain, and she needed that kind of things.

“Tadaaa” Sam whispers, holding the joint in front of him like a precious artifact, or a sword, Abigail can’t decide. He looks so proud of himself, she can’t help but laugh.

“Congrats, it only took you what, five years? To learn how to roll” she teases, and Sam puffs his cheeks then sticks his tongue out.

“Since you are so mean, you are going last” he says, and Abigail groans in good humor.

“Be quick, Demetrius wants me to take a look at his computer when I go back” Sebastian mutters, kicking a rock and watching it disappears in the dark. “He pretends he didn’t do anything, but you don’t lose ten years worth of data by doing _nothing_.”

Sam fumbles in his pockets and takes out his lighter with a little victory hum. 

“He must have clicked on the wrong button” he says, with a shrug, lighting the joint.

“I should be paid, considering the number of times I saved his data” Sebastian complains, and he sits next to Sam and holds out his hand. Sam gives him the joint.

“You like computer, it’s not like it’s a chore for you” Abigail points out, and Sebastian throws her a grouchy glare. “Plus, it’s an opportunity for you two to have some cool bonding time.”

Sam enthusiastically nods, and Sebastian just rolls his eyes. Abigail knows he doesn’t mind that much helping his step-father with his computer. He just likes to complain for the sake of it. She makes a grabby motion with her hand with a little hum, and he hands her the joint. They stay in silence for a few minutes, smoking and watching the little insects fly near the lamppost.

Abigail lets her head rolls behind her, and watches the dark sky sprinkled with bright little stars, and she takes a big breath, feeling both really small and really big. She likes smoking weed just for that moment, where everything seems to suddenly calm down, and the world looks way brighter and nicer. She can forgets her worry for a small moment – her father’s disapproving eyes, her mother’s silence, the Wizard’s concern, the fact that she stole a very precious artifact from a powerful librarian – and just… relaxes.

“Already falling asleep, Abi?” she can hear Sam asking, and she just waves a hand in his direction. She closes her eyes again, and breathes.

She hopes her two friends won’t start making out when she’s just right here. They did that last week, and it was frankly embarrassing. Especially when they both denied it the next morning, with the same shameful look on their faces. Abigail hasn’t brought it up again, respectful of her friends’ idiocy, but she really doesn’t want to hear them kiss when she just started to relax.

“What’s new?” she asks, to keep them occupied.

“My dad is finally getting some therapy” Sam drawls, and Abigail opens her eyes to look at him. His smile looks strained. Abigail pats his shoulder, her hand feeling a little bit too heavy.

“Good for him” she says, and her voice sounds hushed.

“Harvey helped him found a good therapist in Zuzu City. He went for the first time yesterday. Said it was a relief to finally be able to talk about his fears to someone who can do something about them.”

It’s Sebastian’s turn to pat Sam’s shoulder.

“My mom is very happy” Sam concludes, and if he sniffles a little bit and rubs his eyes, no one points it out. Abigail puts her cheek on his shoulder and Sebastian hugs him awkwardly. They stay like that for a little bit, and then Sam laughs and gently pushes them.

“Hey, I’m okay, just a little bit emotional” he protests, when Abigail pouts. “What about you guys?”

They talks about their life for a while, Sebastian making them laugh with the tale of Maru’s new experience (she burned the tips of her hair while welding some wires, panicked and dumped a joja cola on her head) and it feels good.

When Abigail goes home, because her father will kill her if she breaks her curfew, she feels lighter than before. She sneaks into her room, takes off her clothes and slips into her pajamas, and she barely throws a glance at the book on her desk before getting into her bed. She’s tired, and a little bit high, and she yawns before closing her eyes. She will deal with _everything_ tomorrow.

* * *

Drinking tea with a powerful Guardian in complete silence while the little forest spirits watch them is not a well-known experience for the Wizard.

And it’s also not a _pleasant_ experience, since the Guardian radiates pure anger and looks at him like he wants to rip his head off and burn his body.

The Wizard takes a slow, measured sip of his tea, trying to not let his feverishness slips. He is not scared, not really, but something akin to apprehension thrums under his skin. Guardians are formidable opponents, when they are angry.

“It’s a nice tea” the Guardian comments idly, his eyes dark and focused, his fingers gently waving his little spoon in his cup.

“It’s my favorite” the Wizard says, clearing his throat. “You are a tea aficionado, I presume?”

“Indeed.”

A little spirit makes a chirping sound, bumping against the Wizard’s leg, probably sensing his distress. Without taking his eyes off the Guardian, the Wizard gently pets the soft head of the spirit.

“ _It’s okay, I got this under control_ ” he thinks, conveying his feelings to the little spirit.

It's a lie, but with a little luck the spirit would believe him.

“I don’t think you are here to talk about tea, I am wrong?” he asks, and he puts his cup down. The Guardian arches a brow.

“No, I’m not. I’m here to retrieve the book you stole from me.”

Well, at least he’s straight-forward. The Wizard has never been good at subtleties. He nods.

“Unfortunately, the book is not here. I though you would have known that, considering your…” and he waves his hands in the air, no knowing how to convey the protective magic the Guardian wields.

“Would you be so kind to point in the general direction of this book’s location?” the Guardian asks, surprisingly polite, which is never a good sign.

The Wizard’s ex-wife had this kind of tone just before they started fighting. Bad times. They really shouldn’t have eloped together.

“Can’t you just… find it back?” the Wizard asks, curious, because a Guardian is not supposed to lose whatever he’s protecting.

“Unfortunately, no.”

The Wizard wants to ask _why_ , but he doesn’t. Abigail… she is way more powerful than he thought, if she can hide an object from its guardian’s watchful gaze. With a hum, he refills his cup.

“Interesting. I’m sure you can understand that since I was the one to steal this book, I can’t really help you retrieve it. And honestly, even if I hadn’t been the thief, I wouldn’t help you. This book does not belong in a museum.”

The Guardian doesn’t show any emotion – not even surprise at his sincere admission – and simply nods, and puts his cup down. His eyes finally leave the Wizard’s face, and land on the little spirits running around the shelves and bumping into each other in front of the fireplace.

“Those are strange creatures” he comments, as if nothing happened. “What are they?”

“Forest spirits. Not everyone can see them. I suppose it’s only logical that you can. They are harmless, if only a little mischievous.”

A small smile tugs at the Guardian’s lips, and he nods one last time before getting up. He puts his hat back.

“Thanks for the tea and the fascinating conversation” he says, and the Wizard follows him to the door, because forgetting his manners is not like him. “Until we see each other again, M.Rasmodius.”

And with that, he leaves, not looking back, and the Wizard watches him disappear behind the tree with a strange feeling in his mind. He thinks about Abigail, and something like concern swells in his chest, making him wince.

He should have stayed out of trouble, just like he promised himself twenty-three years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pierre : are you high
> 
> Abigail : am i what
> 
> Pierre : high 
> 
> Abigail : hello


	7. The Rain

Twenty-three years ago, the Wizard made a mistake.

Not a small, easily-forgiven, “we can talk about it” mistake.

A huge, deafening, “we can’t talk about it I’m gonna pack my things and leave” mistake.

It had cost him his wife, the love they shared, and years and years of happy relationship and trust and projects. It had cost him almost all of his self-respect, and the last words his wife had told him, in an eerie measured voice, were carved in his mind for eternity.

“ _I really wanted this to work, but apparently, you are not the kind of man I thought you were_.”

Her voice is still here years later, and when the Wizard comes out of his deep meditation state, he doesn’t feel less tired. It’s a problem, for sure, but the morning is already here, and he has an apprentice to see in less than two hours. He doesn’t have the time to feel sorry for himself, especially since it’s his fault. A little spirit waits for him near the kettle, curiously peering into the tea box next to it.

The Wizard hushes him away, not in the mood for mischievous little spirits ruining his morning ritual. He needs tranquility, after such a restless night.

Sometimes, he really misses his ex-wife. She was a witch, a powerful one, perhaps more than him, and they always drank their morning tea together, sometimes outside, sitting on the stairs leading to their tower. They would watch the sun appears together, talking about their dreams, about what they needed to do in the tower or the little garden hidden behind it, and his ex-wife would always gently kiss his cheek before standing up.

Unconsciously rubbing his beard, the Wizard drinks his tea while looking out the window. It’s quiet, and the sky is cloudy. He hopes it’s not going to rain. A little spirit – yellow, this one – bumps against his leg and chirps, and the Wizard sights, then bend to rub the soft almost jelly-like head.

“Yes, I know, little one, I know. Thinking about the past is not a good idea” he mutters, and he wonders if he’s going a little bit crazy, talking to spirit that can’t obviously answer him. They understand him, he’s sure of that, but it doesn’t mean it makes it less weird.

He goes to his room, takes off his “meditation clothes” (he absolutely refuses to call them _pajamas_ ) and gets dressed. The mirror gently informs him that he looks terrible, with dark circles under his eyes and even darker eyes.

With a little bit of luck, Abigail won’t notice his state, and won’t ask questions, he thinks, putting on his cape and hat and opening the door.

“Wow, you look awful, did something happen?” asks Abigail when he joins her near the lake, and she’s not late this time, but her inquisitive tone is concerning. She looks worried. She has an umbrella tucked under her arm, and a bag on her back.

“My mom said it was going to rain” she says, pointing at the sky. “She forced me to take this” she adds, waving the umbrella around and almost smacking herself in the face in the process.

Ah yes, Caroline had always been good at this kind of little things. Little things like predicting the weather.

“So, you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head and rubs his eyes with the tips of his fingers, not in the mood for a heartfelt conversation about his feelings. Abigail pouts, but doesn’t press the subject. Smart girl, the Wizard thinks.

She opens her bag and takes out the Arcane Book with exaggerated caution, and holds it in her hands, obviously trying to hand it to him, but not wanting to. The Wizard sights. It’s going to be a long lesson.

“Have you opened it?” he asks, sitting on a rock, because he feels tired.

“No…”

Abigail looks sincere. He nods, a little bit reassured.

“Do it now. Don’t be scared.”

She rolls her eyes. She sits next to him, and slowly opens the book, a strange look on her face that the Wizard knows well. He has seen a lot of young wizards and witches with the same reverent expression back in the day.

Abigail stays silent, which is very unlike her, a hand slowly stroking the first page of her book, her fingers following the complicated scripture. She frowns.

“It’s strange” she says. “I feel like I should be able to read this. But I can’t.”

“Nothing unusual” the Wizard mutters, trying not to sound too grumpy. “This is not a language you can learn. Only those who possess magical abilities can decipher it.”

“So I just have to…” Abigail waves a hand in the air, looking confused. “Feel it? Use magic to understand it?”

“Something like that. Close your eyes. Try to empty your mind of any useless concerns.”

Abigail obeys, muttering something that sounds like “none of my concerns are useless”, and she takes a big breath, her hands flat on the open book. The Wizard hesitated, then puts his hand on her shoulder, grounding her, trying to see what exactly he’s dealing with.

 _Oh fuck_ , he thinks almost immediately.

Abigail is powerful. Very powerful. Dangerously powerful. Like a tornado, her power swirls inside her, a thrumming energy threatening to spill at any moment. The Wizard closes his eyes. He has to guide her. He pushes his own energy toward her, coaxing it into enveloping any tendril of power that wants to escape. Like a safety blanket. He has done this a million time before, helping young witches and wizard to control their own power, but nothing is comparable to _this_.

Fortunately, Abigail doesn’t try to shake him off. Either she doesn’t know she could easily kick him out of her power source, or she trusts him enough not to do it. The Wizard hopes it’s the second one.

“Focus” he says, and he can feel the sudden burst of focused energy rippling through Abigail’s body, and he feels… almost proud. She’s good at it.

He opens his eyes, takes off his hands from her shoulder, and watches her takes another big breath.

“Can I open my eyes now?” she asks, her hands almost thrumming on her book, and he says yes.

She does, and looks down at the open page in her laps, biting her lips, her eyes wide and excited. She smiles, and looks at him.

“I can read it” she whispers, utterly in awe. The Wizard scoffs.

“Of course you can read it. It was _made_ for you” he says, and she smiles, again, a bright and almost too blinding thing that makes something in the Wizard’s chest churns. 

He’s way too emotionally attached to this girl, he realizes.

“First magic lesson for beginners. Hi, welcome to the wonderful world of magic users!” Abigail reads, frowning again. “Is it for real? Why is it written like a _Magic for Dummies_ manual?”

“Because you are a beginner, young lady, don’t you forget it. You may be powerful, but the book knows you haven’t done any magic yet.”

“Oh so it’s a _smart_ book!”

The Wizard winces, but still nods his approval.

* * *

Magic is, in fact, not as fun as Abigail hoped it would be.

It’s a lot of reading, asking the Wizard for clarification, trying to understand what the fuck the difference between “power source”, “core” and “energy vessel” is, and a lot of frustration. She doesn’t feel like she’s making any progress and she had been reading her book for at least an hour. At least.

The Wizard is still sitting next to her, pretending not to be asleep but spectacularly falling at it. He’s even snoring a little, his eyes hidden behind the rim of his hat, his head on the trunk of the tree above them. Abigail smiles. He looked tired, when he arrived this morning. A little nap can’t hurt him.

She gets up, her legs stiff and sore after not moving for so long, and she puts the book in her bag. She goes near the lake, and crouches, trying to see if they are any fishes beneath the surface. It’s cloudy today, and a little windy, and she rubs her arms to get rid of the goose bumps.

A movement on the other side of the lake catches her attention, and she springs to her feet. It’s Leah, dressed in green as usual, almost blending with the trees, her bright red hair the only spot of color that can gives her away. Abigail hesitates.

She slowly rises from her crouched position and waves a little bit. Leah almost immediately responds to her salute with a wave of her own, and Abigail smiles, and then decides to jog to join her. A little bit of normal conversation can’t hurt her. She needs it.

Leah waits patiently for her, and she has a sketchbook and some fancy lead pencils tucked in her hands. She smiles and giggles a little when Abigail stops near her.

“Are you that excited to talk to me so early in the morning?” she asks, with a bright smile, and Abigail admires the freckles she has on her nose before answering.

“Running is a good workout, you know? Gotta stay in shape for the hot singles in the area” she quips back, and she feels proud of her when Leah laughs again.

Leah has a really nice laugh. Warm and genuine.

“What are you doing here?” Abigail asks, even if it’s pretty obvious.

“Oh, I just wanted to sketch a little bit before going to Zuzu City. I need some art supplies, and as much as your father likes to believe he has everything you need in his store, it’s seriously lacking oil-paint and drawing paper.”

Abigail smiles, because other people making fun of her dad never fail to amuse her. She nods.

“You are going alone?”

“Eliott is coming with me, he’s gonna meet with some of his… artistic friends for a drink” Leah says with a little shrug. “Not really my thing, to be honest. I went with him last time and they spend _hours_ fighting about the meaning of the use of external point of view in an old book I’d never heard about.”

Abigail laughs with her. Eliott is nice, but she can perfectly imagine what kind of heated debate he can get into, the kind where anyone who’s not a total nerd about literature would get completely lost.

“And you, what are you doing here, alone in the middle of the woods?” Leah asks, her tone curious, but not inquisitive. Abigail scratches her head. Flirting with pretty girls is easy until you have to hide the fact that you do magic with an old grumpy wizard at nine in the morning.

“Nothing, really. Just stretching my legs. I like the forest in the morning. It’s quiet” she decides to say, a safe answer that gets her a serious nod from Leah.

“I can understand that. Even if Pelican Town is a small village, it can be a little overwhelming sometimes” she whispers with a sad smile.

“Especially when your father thinks he’s the center of the world” adds Abigail, and she doesn’t like the bitterness of her tone, but she doesn’t even try to hide it. Leah probably knows what she’s talking about. _Everybody_ knows, in Pelican Town.

Leah gently smiles, and pats her shoulder.

“Yeah, that too. We can hang out in silence if you want?”

“Let’s just hang out, I’m not good with silence when there is somebody else with me” Abigail jokes, and she’s rewarded with another bright laugh.

* * *

It’s raining when Abigail finally goes home.

It’s not so much raining as it is pouring; a true downpour that immediately soaks Abigail despite the umbrella.

Muttering curses under her breath, Abigail runs toward the store, jumping over large puddles of mud and water, and the town square is completely empty. She has left Leah fifteen minutes ago, because the young woman said she had to go home and get ready for her trip to Zuzu City, and right after that, it has started raining.

Abigail is not, despite the progress she had made with her arcane book and her lovely little chat with Leah, in a good mood.

“You are soaked!” screams her father when she enters the store.

“Yeah, I know” she screams back, not in the mood for a lecture about bringing mud on the pristine floor of her father’s cherished store.

Behind the cash register, her father looks like he’s about to cry.

“Why did you go out, didn’t you mother told you it was going to rain? “he complains, getting up and nervously looking around, probably for a towel or something like that.

“Yes, she told me that, and I took an umbrella, but it’s raining so much it wasn’t very useful.”

He rolls his eyes, as if she was responsible for the awful weather. Abigail sights, and carefully takes off her muddy boots. Best not to let the mud spread out.

Her father finally finds a towel and rushes to her side.

“What if you got sick, have you thought about that? With your finals right around the corner you can’t…”

“I’M FINE!” yells Abigail, taking the towel and using it to angrily scrub her hair and face. “I’m not a kid anymore. I’m gonna take a warm shower, and I’m not going to get sick! Why are you so… weird about it?”

She doesn’t get an answer. Her father just shrugs, and goes back to his cash register. He looks tired, today. Tired, and _old_. Abigail tries to dry her clothes as best as she can and joins him, holding the tower on her head.

“Hey, dad, I’m fine. I just went for a walk and got caught by the rain. Did something happen?” she asks, keeping her voice soft and low, feeling uncomfortable.

“Your mother is… not feeling well. Probably just a cold, but Harvey is not here today, and I’m worried” her father answers, not looking at her.

Abigail feels bad. Her mother _never_ gets sick. Not even a little bit of a cold in the middle of winter. It’s definitively unusual. She sights.

“I can cook lunch, if you want. Make some soup” she offers, and her father finally smiles a little bit.

“Yes, that would be nice.”

Abigail nods and smiles, trying to play the role of the sweet daughter she often feels like her father wishes it was a genuine act.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, she knocks on her parents’ bedroom door, hoping her mom is not totally asleep. She needs her advices about soup. She had never made soup before. How do you make soup anyway?

The doors opens. Her mom doesn’t look sick at all. She smiles, a strange, strained thing that makes her look older.

“We need to talk, sweetie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the wizard : roses are red violets are blue why did you leave me karen what did i do


	8. ReVeLAtiONs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short chapter sorry

Abigail doesn’t go to her parent’s bedroom anymore. She used to, when she was a little girl scared of the terrifying monsters that haunted her nightmares.

Now, she’s a grown woman, an adult (almost), and when she wakes up in the middle of the night because the monster in her dream was way too real, she just stays in her bed, alone, and tries to calm down.

It’s a simple bedroom, and her mother sits on her bed, and pats the spot next to her.

“Sit with me, sweetie” she says, and Abigail obeys, feeling like the scared little girl she once was. Her mother puts her arm around her shoulder and squeezes.

“I’m not going to scold you, relax” she jokes, and Abigail smiles. 

“I thought you were sick” she says, and her mother winces. “Dad told me. He’s worried.”

“I’m not sick. But I told your father I was because I needed time for myself. Time to think, mainly.”

“Think about what?”

Abigail’s mother slowly detaches herself from her daughter, and takes her hands. She looks so serious, Abigail is starting to think somebody has died in their family. But she talked to her grandmother on the phone last week, and she was doing fine, and her two uncles are still travelling around the world, sending postcards and calling whenever they can.

“Thinking about you, sweetie. Your father told me you were talking with M.Rasmodius a few days ago on the beach” her mother says, her voice calm and measured, but Abigail can’t help feeling defensive.

“Did he tell you he called me a weirdo?” she asks, her voice sour and almost aggressive.

Her mother smiles softly, and strokes her cheek lightly. Abigail feels small and vulnerable, and she doesn’t like that.

“Unlike your father, I don’t mind weird things, sweetie. I always knew you were a strange one, in the good sense of the term.” Her mother’s voice has a firmness to it that’s kind of reassuring. “But it’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

She stays silent for a few seconds, obviously struggling to find the right words. Abigail resists the urge to talk, because she can sense something big is coming. And she doesn’t know if she’s ready for it.

“I always knew you were a strange one” her mother repeats, with a sad look on her face. “I always knew a day will come where you will discover what you are. But it doesn’t make it easier.”

Abigail is clutching her mother’s hands so hard it must be painful. She’s scared.

“I’m a witch, sweetie, just like you. Just like your father.”

There is a strange second where Abigail thinks her mother is talking about her husband, Abigail’s father, the proud owner of the general store, and she almost laughs hysterically, because that’s _hilarious_. But that can’t be... Oh fuck.

“Oh fuck” she whispers when her brain finally catches what her mother means by that. 

* * *

“I felt a great disturbance in the air” says the Guardian in an almost polite tone.

The Wizard just stares.

He felt it too, of course. He has been home for a few hours, tending to his magical deeds, trying to stop the little spirits from causing another great catastrophe, and during these hours, he had felt something strange pulling at his heart.

Like something he totally forgot to do.

“Tea?” he proposes, because he’s not going to stay outside while it’s raining so much. The Guardian nods, protected by his umbrella, and seemingly unbothered by the rain.

The little spirits don’t scatter this time when the Guardian enters the tower. They watches him from a distance, beeping and chirping softly, as if asking each other ushered questions about this strange man.

“What happened?” the Guardian asks as soon as they are installed around the table, a cup of tea in their hands.

The Wizard rubs his eyes and sights and hopes tomorrow is going to be a better day.

“Just a young witch discovering her powers, nothing to worry about” he explains, and it’s way too concise to be a good explanation, but he doesn’t feel brave enough to go deeper.

The Guardian just takes a sip of his tea, surveying the room with a look of open curiosity painted across his face.

“Strange.” He puts his teacup down. “This young witch is the purple-haired woman who stole the book from me.”

At “purple-haired”, he looks pointedly at the Wizard.

The Wizard ignores him, and looks at the little spirit rolling next to him, bumping into the leg of the table. He vaguely hums.

He takes a sip of his tea.

“She’s your daughter, isn’t she?”

He chokes on his tea.


	9. Coping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for alchohol use and subtle gay feelings

“ _I just found out my dad is not my biological dad. What do I do??? I’m mad at my mom for lying to me for so long, and I don’t know if my dad (the one who raised me) knows that I’m not his real daughter, and if the one who is supposed to be my dad knows so I’m panicking, what can I do?_ ”

Abigail presses send, and leans back in her chair. She’s on her computer, on one of her favorite forum. It’s not a “personal issues” forum, since it was made for the Journey of the Prairie King game. But Abigail has been posting on this forum since she was fourteen, and has gained over the years a solid reputation among the other users. She’s known as _AbsGamerGirl69_ , and two years ago, she received her admin badge with great pride.

So she doesn’t feel too bad venting about her personal problems in the “Gamer Life” page. People do it all the time. Three weeks ago she helped an anonymous member deals with a severe case of messy break-up.

She sips her strawberries-banana-parsnip smoothie. “Panicking” is not the perfect word to describe how she feels at the moment. But she knows you have to be a little bit dramatic on the internet to draw attention. She refreshes the page, waiting for answers.

She feels weird. Almost detached from the situation. No break-down, no screaming. She had left her mother, went to the kitchen to grab some smoothie and locked herself in her room to sit in front of her computer and call the internet to the rescue.

She refreshes the page again. Three people have answered.

_Lemonlolz6754 : omg that’s awful ur mom is an dick_

_Spaceshipfuckhead : run away and live in the woods for the rest of your life_

_HotGirlsInYourArea981 : WANNA BANG HOT CHICKS ?? CLICK ON THE LINK TO MEET YOUR NEXT HOT SEX-FRIEND !!!_

She rolls her eyes. Porn bots are still a problem in the forum, despite the purification campaign the mods try to launch every month. She ignores HotGirlInYourArea981, and seriously considers Spaceshipfuckhead’s advice. The woods are not that bad, especially in summer. She just has to find a tent and a manual about living alone in the middle of the forest. Maybe the secret woods could be her new home. Nobody go here, except the Farmer, to get some hardwood.

But the Wizard’s tower is not so far away from there.

She shakes her head, the straw of her smoothie between her teeth, and refreshes the page, again and again.

Answers keep adding up under her question, but nobody seems to be sensible enough to give her a real, well-constructed and useful advice. Maybe calling the internet for help wasn’t the smartest move. She closes the page, not wanting to deal with condolences and dumb comments.

“Yeah, my mom is an asshole, I know” she mutters, and slaps her smoothie on her desk. She feels angry, now.

Her phone vibrates. It’s a message from Sam.

 _Sam-Sam_ : _hey hum_

_Sam-Sam : I just saw ur post on the JPK forum_

_Sam-Sam : … what’s going on???_

Oh shit. She forgot Sam was on the forum as well. She opens her browser again, goes to the forum, and looks at the answers.

 _SkaterBoy23_ : WAIT WHAT

She closes the page again, and starts typing a text before deciding it’s simpler to call Sam.

“WHAT THE FUCK ABY” Sam yells, and she immediately takes off her phone from her ear to avoid bursting her eardrums. She keeps her phone at a safe distance until the yelling stops.

“Hey, can you calm down?” she asks, as soon as Sam stops to take a big breath of air.

“I don’t know, _CAN YOU_?” Sam says, and he sounds like he’s hyperventilating, which is concerning.

Abigail pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes.

“ _May you_ calm down?” she asks, and Sam starts laughing and chokes on nothing. She can hears him coughing, drinking some water, and coughing some more before finally, blessed silence.

Sam clears his throat.

“Okay, I’m calm. Explain” he requires, and Abigail flops on her bed and rolls on her back. She looks at the ceiling, the little stars she painted when she was eight and fascinated by space, and she sights.

“Basically, I went home and my mom wanted to talk to me” she starts, and the whole story rolls out of her mouth. Sam doesn’t interrupt her, but Abigail knows he’s listening.

She stops talking. She can hear Sam’s soft breathing, and she waits for his input. Despite his bright (and sometimes obnoxious) skater-boy persona, Sam is one of the smartest and most sensitive people she knows.

“That’s fucked up” he says, after a five seconds silence. “It’s so fucked up, Aby.”

She feels validated in her anger, and nods, even if Sam can’t see the gesture.

“I know, right? What am I supposed to do now? Smile and pretend it never happened?” she complains, rolling onto her stomach.

“That sucks, Aby. Your mom lied to you all those years.” Sam adds, and he sounds really upset. Abigail hopes he’s not going to cry. She’s not here to rub his shoulder and offer him tissues.

“My mom deserves the silence treatment for at least a week. My dad doesn’t know, so I have to pretend everything is alright until I have the guts to talk to him.” She has switched into planning mode, and it feels good. “And I have to talk to my… other dad, I guess. He probably knows.”

Sam hums.

“I can’t believe we have been talking for a year and he didn’t say a thing!”

“Considering how weird he is, it’s not really surprising” Sam points on. “But we really should have suspected something, you know. You have the same hair color.”

Abigail can’t help but snorts. It’s a stupid detail, but now that Sam had said it, she wonders why she never had any doubts in the past. The Wizard has purple hair and he’s… well, a wizard. And Abigail has purple hair, and she’s a witch.

“Do you want to hang out today?” Sam asks, almost hesitant.

“Yeah. Tonight. You bring the good weed and I bring the beers.”

She hears the sound Sam makes when they fist bump, and she laughs.

“ Community Center at 9?” Sam proposes, and she says yes.

She hangs up, and stares at her ceiling, feeling angry and confused.

* * *

Sebastian is here when Abigail gets to the Community Center, ten minutes late but some beers hidden in her backpack.

He simply hugs her, and doesn’t say anything, but Abigail knows Sam told him the whole story, and he feels bad for her. She just smiles and shrugs and gives him a beer.

Sam is texting someone, and barely looks up from his phone when she puts a cold beer against his cheek.

“Hey, dumbass, take your beer” she insists.

“Do you mind if Hayley and Emily join us?” Sam looks at her expectantly, and she thinks about it for three seconds before nodding.

“Yeah, sure. Emily is funny” she says, and she plops herself on the bench next to him. Sebastian lights a cigarette.

Sam’s head bops enthusiastically, and his smile grows mischievous.

“Only Emily?” he drawls, looking at her with bright eyes. Abigail resists the sudden urge to smack him with the beer she’s still holding.

“Shut up and take your beer.”

He obeys, but Sebastian chuckles. Abigail kicks a pebble in his direction, but misses, and he sticks his tongue out in victory.

Emily is funny. Abigail likes her, and often wishes she had a big sister just like her, a colorful sparkly and cheery seamstress, who she could talk to whenever something’s wrong. 

Hayley is nothing like her sister. She’s _beautiful_ , the kind of beauty you don’t see often in a small town on the country side. Abigail has never understood the expression “blinded by someone beauty” before she saw Hayley for the first time, seven years ago.

So every time Abigail is forced to talk to Hayley, for whatever reason, she just… stares somewhere behind the shoulder of the young woman, to intimidated to look at her deep blue eyes and perfect face.

They open the beers and have a quick, discreet toast (Mayor Lewis could be lurking behind the bushes, trying to caught them red-handed), and Abigail savors her beer in silence for a minute or two. Sam is rolling his joint, his beer balanced on his thigh. Sebastian is looking at his phone, his hood pulled up on his head despite the warm weather.

Emily blue hair appears not long after Sam had light up his joint. And behind her, dressed like a top-model, Hayley is walking, her eyes glued to her phone. She’s typing, fast, despite her impeccable but impractical manicure, and Abigail quickly lowers her eyes.

“Hey everyone!” Emily says, her cheery voice startling them. Sam smiles brightly, and gets up to high-five the young woman. She laughs. Sam laughs and hands her the joint. Abigail understands why they get along so well despite the five years difference.

Hayley simply waves, with a small smile. Sam politely lets her have his seat, which means she’s now sitting next to Abigail, who desperately tries to act cool. 

“You want a beer?” she asks, and her voice sounds horribly timid. Thankfully, Hayley nods with a small smile, and she gets busy trying to get a bottle out of her back.

Sebastian puts some music on his little audio speaker, and Abigail makes fun of him for forcing them to listen to another “Chill-pop compilation”. Emily asks them if Leah can join them. They say yes. Leah wants to bring Eliott with her. They also say yes. Eliott wants to bring the crab he found on the beach this morning. They also say yes, but in a confused way.

Their little party kicks in when Leah arrives, two bottles of wine in her hands, and a big, happy smile on her face. Beside her, Eliott already looks high.

They make small talk for a few minutes, moving around, and Abigail sits on the ground next to Eliott and asks him about his new book. Hayley is talking with Sebastian, a goblet of wine in her hand, and Abigail tries to not feel disappointed when the young woman doesn’t notice Abigail leaving the bench.

“Oh, it’s going great, thank you!” Eliott says, inclining his head like the reincarnation of a nineteen century dandy he secretly is. Abigail bites her lips. “I’m currently struggling with the historical aspect of it!”

Abigail likes Eliott because not matter the subject, his voice stays the same. Even as he’s explaining the complexity of the story and the historical inaccuracies he faces, he still sounds delighted.

Leah leaves Sam, and comes to sit with them.

“Boring people to death with your novel?” she asks, playful, and Eliott laughs.

“It’s consensual” Abigail jokes, and Leah chuckles.

Their little party is _lit_ , as Sam would say. When Abigail looks around her, everyone seems to have fun. Sam is talking with Emily, about… stage clothes? Abigail hopes he’s not planning to make them wear awful patterned leggings during their next concert, like some sort of obscure rock-punk band from the 90’s.

Sebastian is still talking with Hayley. From what Abigail can hear, Hayley wants to launch her own online magazine about fashion, and she needs some advice.

It’s nice. Leah is talking about her next creation and Abigail finishes her beer. Eliott puts his hands in his pocket, and takes off a little crab. It’s still alive and kicking, and he puts it on the grass.

“I named her Melusine” Eliott says, with a smile. “I’ve been reading a lot of old medieval tales and legends. You’ve heard of Melusine?”

Leah and Abigail shake their head. Eliott straightens his back, and clears his throat.

“Melusine was a beautiful woman” he begins, slowly, and he definitely has the kind of voice that’s perfect for telling story. “But she was also a fairy, or a witch according to some stories. A young lord fell in love with her, and she accepted to marry him, under one condition.”

Abigail switches to wine and nods. She likes stories like that. The little crab tries to pinch Eliott’s fingers, and he smiles.

“The condition was that the young lord should never try to see Melusine when the young woman was in her bath” Eliott continues, and Leah rolls her eyes. She probably guessed where the story is going.

“Let me guess, he broke his promise” she mumbles, and Eliott gravely nods. “Men…” Leah sighs.

“Indeed, the young lord was curious, and one day, as Melusine was bathing, he looked through the lock of the door.”

It’s quite, suddenly. Abigail realizes the other have stopped talking, and are listening to the story.

“Melusine was a cursed woman. Every time her body was in the water, she turned into a snake from her navel to her feet” Eliott says, and Emily gasps loudly. “Her husband was horrified, and he confronted his wife, calling her a _demon_.”

“Destroyed by her husband’s treason, Melusine fled, and sometimes, she comes back to watch her children sleep.” Satisfied, Eliott takes a big sip of wine, and puts his crab back in his pocket. Leah claps, and Abigail imitates her, impressed. She’s never heard about this legend, and she likes it.

But she still thinks Melusine should have eaten her treacherous husband before leaving.

* * *

It’s past midnight when Abigail goes home. The world feels a little bit wobbly around her, and she laughs a lot for nothing, but she feels happy.

She thanks Sam for the great party, hugs him and Sebastian, high-fives Emily and Eliott, and smiles at Hayley. Then she tries to go home, and almost walks straight into a tree five meters later.

She hears Sam laughs, and Emily’s hushed “Maybe someone should go with her?”

Next thing she knows, Leah’s strong arm is supporting her, and they are walking together toward the town square.

“Are you okay?” Leah asks, and Abigail tries not to lean too much against her.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m good.” She tries to sound confident, but she trips against a rock and almost falls on her face. Thankfully, Leah is here to catch her. Abigail stares at her biceps for way too long.

She looks away and tries to walk straight. When she looks up, she sees Leah’s face, barely visible in the dark, and the young woman seems to be fighting the urge to laugh.

“I mean, are you really _okay_?” Leah asks, again, and this time her voice is soft. “You drank like you wanted to forget something.”

Abigail stays silent. The stairs leading to the town square are right in front of them, and she needs to focus.

“Sorry, forget I asked that” Leah says, and she sounds embarrassed.

“No, don’t worry, I’m just concentrating” Abigail mumbles, and they start climbing down the stairs slowly, Leah’s arm supporting Abigail. “I just… learned some bad news. About my family. And I’m not coping well. It’s gonna be okay, though. Don’t worry.”

Leah nods. They are right next to the General Store. Leah’s arm disappears, and Abigail wobbles a little bit, trying to find her keys.

“I’m here if you need to talk” Leah suddenly blurts. “You don’t have to bottle up everything.”

Abigail freezes. She feels weird, and not because of the alcohol. They are right next to a streetlight, and she sees Leah’s face clearly now, her brows furrowed, her lips pinched, a slight blush on her cheeks. She looks pretty.

“Thanks” Abigail says, and she finally gets her hand on her keys.

Leah looks like she wants to say something else, but doesn’t. She just nods and smiles briefly.

“You are gonna be okay, walking alone?” Abigail asks, remembering how far Leah’s cottage is.

“Yeah, it’s okay, take care” Leah says, and she hugs her before leaving, a brief gesture that make Abigail’s heart beats too fast.

She lingers a little bit in front of the door, watching Leah disappears. When she can’t see the young woman anymore, she slowly unlocks the front door and goes inside the store. Trying to be as silent as possible to not alert her parents and faces them completely drunk and possibly high, she walks slowly, letting her eyes getting accustomed to the darkness.

She goes to the kitchen, because she’s thirsty, and Sam told her multiple times to drink water before going to bed after a party. Its helps with the hangover, apparently.

She turns on the light, takes a glass and fills it with water, and almost drops it when her mother’s voice echoes behind her.

“Everything is alright, sweetie?”

She turns around so fast she almost loses her balance and fells on her ass. Her mother is at the door, huddled in her dressing gown, her eyes sleepy and unfocused.

Abigail feels a sudden bubble of anger rising in her throat, and she takes a sip of water to make it disappear. Now is not the time to lash out and tell her mother a piece of her mind. Alcohol is not helping. Neither is the vulnerable look on her mother’s face.

“Yeah, I was just thirsty” Abigail grits out, and she puts her glass in the sink, and tries to slip past her mother.

A hand on her shoulder stops her. She suddenly realizes she’s now taller than her mother. She tries not to feel sad about it, and fails.

“ Honey, you look unwell, is everything okay?” her mother whispers, and Abigail refuses to meet her eyes. She gets rid of the hand lingering on her shoulder.

“I bet you wouldn’t feel great either if you just learned your dad is not your real dad” she blurts, and she almost runs out of the kitchen, and takes refuge in her bedroom, locking the door and trying not to puke.

She takes off her clothes, puts her pajama on, and crawls into her bed. Her head is spinning, and she turns off the light, closing her eyes really tight, and failing to hold the tears.


	10. Run away *boum boum*

Abigail looks one last time at the thread of comments under the cry for help she posted two days ago on the King of the Prairie forum.

There is a new comment. Posted fourteen hours ago.

 _MayorLewisSucks_ : _@everyone who says this is not the place to vent about our feelings fuck off_

Abigail can guess who hides behind this very specific pseudonym.

She smiles, and shuts off her computer. Her bag is on her bed, still open but ready, and she gets up to close it. She only took the essential: her wallet, her Arcane Book, some clothes, a bottle of water, and some food. She zips it shut, and puts on her sturdy hiking boots. 

She crouches, and looks under her bed. There, wrapped in the lesbian flag Sam gave her a year ago, is the sword she bought a few months ago from the old grumpy monster hunter that lives near the mines. It’s a simple sword, really, not as powerful and fast as Abigail whishes it was, but it does its job. She had already killed a few slimes with it, during her exploration of the mines and the secret forest.

She keeps the sword hidden in the flag, and slips her bag on her shoulders. It’s still early, barely six in the morning, and she knows her father won’t wake up before seven. She still has time, but she feels like she needs to go.

She barely slept that night. Too much to think about. At three in the morning, she had gotten up to put on the kitchen table, near her mother’s teapot, the letter she wrote for her parents.

She silently leaves her bedroom, closing the door behind her, the soft _click_ echoing in the dark hallway. If she listens very closely, she can hear her father snoring in the parental bedroom.

She opens the door that leads to the store. It’s dark and quiet, and she looks at the shelves she helped her father stock a week ago. She looks at the plumb melons the Farmer brought four days ago. She looks at the stacked radish and the packs of sugar and flour and the bottles of oil and milk.

She leaves the store without looking back.

It’s still cool outside. The sun is still down, but the sky is not as dark as before. It’s morning. Abigail likes morning, when _she_ was the one who decided to get up so early to see the sky getting bluer and clearer.

* * *

The door opens almost immediately. Maybe the Wizard sensed her arrival, or maybe he has some kind of magical alarm, or maybe he was waiting behind the door all night, Abigail doesn’t know, but she’s relieved to see him.

He looks like someone who hasn’t sleep at all, and he’s not wearing his hat and his cape. He looks human, and Abigail doesn’t say anything, just walks into the tower and lets the door close behind her.

“I knew you would come” the Wizard whispers, and he sounds… resigned. As if he was waiting for her to punch him in the face and spit on him.

She doesn’t take off her bad, doesn’t sit down at the table, doesn’t wander in the tower looking for some cool stuff to poke.

She just looks at him, and nods.

“Mom told me.” The Wizard startles. “Apparently, you are my biological father.”

He sighs and rubs his eyes.

“Yes, and I can’t begin to imagine how you must feel, but…” he starts, but Abigail is not in the mood for some self-flagellation.

“I’m mad at you.”

He nods and tries to speak, but Abigail interrupts him again.

“I’m mad at you because we’ve been friends… okay, maybe not friends, but at least we talked, for a whole year, and not once you tried to tell me the truth.” She’s angry, and her hands are shaking, but she doesn’t look down.

The Wizard takes a deep breath. Maybe confronting him like that was not the best way to talk about him, but Abigail has never been subtle in her life, and she’s not going to start now to accommodate the feelings of an old coward with magic powers.

“Of course. But can you imagine if I had told you the truth? If one day, out of the blue, I had told you I was your father? I can’t think of any scenario where it would have gone right.”

He’s probably right, in a way, but Abigail shakes her head, and staring at him.

“I _deserved_ to know. You’re just a coward. And you’re not the guy I thought you were.”

Oh, apparently, she hits him right where it hurts. He flinches, steps back, and leans on the table behind him.

She feels bad for him, briefly. Despite her (rightful) anger and disappointment, the Wizard has been a nice friend to have for a year. He was funny, in his own way, and a good teacher during her very short time as his student.

“I know” the Wizard whispers, and he looks so defeated, so sad, Abigail can’t help but feel her anger disappears a little bit.

Just a little bit. She’s still mad.

She crosses her arms, and tries to look cool and collected.

“I’m gonna… go away. For a little while” she says, and the Wizard looks at her, looking puzzled, or worried, it was hard to say with his half of his face covered by his beard.

“Where?” he asks, as if it Abigail hadn’t just insulted him.

She shrugs. Maybe she should lie to him, reassure him, so he doesn’t get too worked up about her and casts a protection spell or something.

But she doesn’t want to.

“I don’t know yet. I’m probably going to take the bus to Calico Desert. I’ve never been there before. And I’m pretty sure I can take another bus to Zuzu City from here.”

It’s a very feeble plan, she knows it, but the Wizard just nods, and briefly closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he looks like he has regained some of his composure.

“And do you plan on coming back?” he asks, and Abigail smiles for the first time since she entered the tower.

It’s a small, strained smile, but it’s still a smile.

“Yes.”

* * *

_Dear parents,_

_Please don’t call the cops when you realize I’m not in my room this morning. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m 23, and I’m allowed to leave the house for a day or a month without you behind my back._

_No, it’s not a typo, I really wrote down “a month”._

_Maybe it’s going to be a little more than that, actually. I can’t tell you when exactly I’m going to come home, but don’t worry, I will._

_The truth is, I’m mad at you both._

_I’ll let Mom explains everything to Dad. I think you two need some alone time to talk and I frankly don’t want to be here when the truth comes out._

_Speaking of coming out: Mom already knows that, but Dad, I’m a lesbian. It’s not a big deal, and you probably had some suspicions about it since I’m not exactly discreet, but yeah. I like girls. Though you would like to know that, since I kind of feel like we are strangers sometimes._

_I still love you two. I care about you, and please, don’t try to look for me._

_Take care,_

_Your daughter,_

_Abi._

_P.S : can you tell Leah I’m still up for some talk about our feelings in the foreseeable future ? I don’t want her to think I’m running away._

* * *

Sometimes, Abigail felt like her life was unpredictable the way crossing a river by jumping from rock to rock is. You never know if the stone you land on is going to be dry, or wet, if your foot is going to slip and you will end up with your ass in the water and your shoes completely ruined.

Waiting for the bus to arrive in Calico Desert (dry land, hard sun, not a lot of things to see, she discovered after two days), Abigail looks up, and takes a deep breath.

She knows she can just wait another day, and calls Sam or Sebastian or her parents and asks them to come pick her up.

The sun is setting. The desert is silent and empty. A low rumbling sound echoes at the end of the road, and she knows the bus is coming, kicking up dust. She watches the vehicle comes closer, and stopping in front of her. 

Maybe the next rock is going to be slippery and ruins everything. Maybe the next rock is going to be sturdy, but she’s going to realize that there is no other stone in front of her, and she can only turn around. Maybe there will be too many paths to take, and she’s going to be stuck in one place, incapable of taking the right decision.

She jumps anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long, i suck at finishing projects lol  
> hope you enjoyed this fic and i still have a lot of ideas for Abigail's journey if anyone is interested   
> take care <3

**Author's Note:**

> Plz tell me if they are any big bad mistakes i'm not a native english speaker and i sometimes forget how to speak english lol


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